


you're in ruins

by findyourstars



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Collection, Everything is platonic here folks, Gen, Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sickfic, Whumptober 2019, batfam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-01-13 17:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findyourstars/pseuds/findyourstars
Summary: Dick glanced out over the dark waters. There was something metallic gleaming just off shore, and he squinted at it. Was that--?“Oh my god, he’s in the harbor,” Babs’ voice blurted, panicked, and Dick’s eyes flipped wide. Yes, that was the glint of a red metal helmet sinking slowly down.orJason ends up taking an icy swim during patrol one night.Jason-centric drabbles, started for Whumptober 2019.1: Asphyxiation - Jason and Babs2: Fever/Stab wound - Jason and Dick3: Bloody hands - Jason and Tim4: Limping - Jason and Dick5: Icy Water pt 1 - Jason, Dick, Tim





	1. Asphyxiation: Jason and Babs

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a bit of a long-winded writer, so the goal of these drabbles was forcing myself to condense and communicate a scene into something that didn't take 3k words to spool out. Hope you enjoy!

The vent had become too tight for Jason to army crawl. Instead, he was doomed to lie on his stomach and inch forward with outstretched fingertips. After only five or so minutes of this, his nails were ripped and bleeding, and his breathing was climbing in pace as he fought off the building terror of _what if I can’t get out._

And then the vent no longer felt like galvanized steel, but like packed earth crumbling against his skin, like the taste of loam and rotting vegetation on his tongue, like bloodied fingertips clawing at a black sky of dirt.

“Red Hood, what’s your status?”

Babs’ voice broke through the flashback like a spade through soil. “‘M fine.”

It was far from convincing, and there was a brief pause. “Where are you?”

“In the -- _mmmf_ \-- motherfucking vent.”

_Click click click_ sang the keyboard on Oracle’s end, and the sound was so incongruous with Talia burying him alive that Jason felt the panic slowing, whirling around his ankles instead of dragging him under.

“You only have another twenty feet before the vent widens again.”

Jason’s exhale was between a whimper and a sob, and he heard Babs hum on the other side of the comms. 

“Hey Jason, what’s the tallest building in Gotham?”

“Gotham Royal Hotel,” he murmured. Dragged himself forward a few inches.

“They’ve got gargoyles on the roof, right?”

“Used to.” His shoulders were screaming. He continued. “Don’t know if they still do.”

She hummed again. “What was the historical purpose of gargoyles anyway?”

“Rainspout. Uh, divert the water. So it didn’t wear away the masonry.”

They continued for almost half an hour until Jason’s arms were no longer touching the walls. Then Oracle clicked off, and he hauled himself the rest of the way in record time. Once he was clear of the target zone and on a rooftop (beneath the breathtaking velvet sky of Gotham at night, smog and all), he pulled out his phone. He wasn’t too proud to admit that he owed Babs a drink.


	2. Fever/stab wound: Jason and Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shit, sorry.” A whistle. “You’re burning up, Jaybird.”
> 
> Chapter 2: Fever/Stab wound - Jason and Dick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm going to start a new multichaptered fic," she says. "It'll be fine," she says.
> 
> "Fuck you," her computer says, before promptly kicking the bucket :')
> 
> Anywho thank you everyone for reading! This chapter is one of my favorites I've done so far; these two nerds are very close to my heart.

Someone was knocking on his door. Jason shoved his face deeper into the couch cushions. If he ignored them, they had to go away.

But even if he wanted to do something about it, he didn’t think he could move. His bones felt like they’d been replaced with hot iron, agony radiating out from his ribs like quakes from an epicenter. _Infection,_ the common sense voice in the back of his brain whispered. Sometimes it sounded like Bruce or Alfred, or his mother. _If you just lie here, you’re going to die._

He didn’t know who the voice sounded like today. Maybe Alfred, or Dick.

_Come on, Little Wing, can you sit up for me?_

Yeah, it definitely sounded like Dick. Then there were hands on his arm and his back: cold, gentle hands that made his skin feel like it was burning. He whined in response, low and soft until the questing hands found the place on his ribs, and his whine jumped to a sharp yelp.

“Shit, sorry.” A whistle. “You’re burning up, Jaybird.”

Jason managed to crack an eye open, vision swimming, and was greeted with the view of Dick Grayson kneeling beside his couch. There was a plastic bag hanging from his arm. His smile brightened when he saw Jason awake.

“Oh good. Here.” He rifled through the bag, emerging with a sports drink and a pill bottle. “Sit up and take these for me, okay?”

Jason was too sick and sore to do anything but comply, although he leaned heavily on Dick as he forced his heavy body away from the soft, soft couch cushions. It took him a few moments to manage the pills and gatorade, and Dick chattered on all the while, his voice a soft, cheerful background to the dull rushing in Jason’s ears.

“-- knew something was up when you missed a patrol last night and your comms were offline. You’re lucky I came by when I did, you look like roadkill.”

Jason managed a derisive grunt, which made Dick chuckle. 

“Yeah, sure. Let’s get you off this ratty couch and into bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Jason is feeling better, he discovers that Dick deep-cleaned his entire apartment and fixed the squeaky hinges on the kitchen cabinets.


	3. Bloody hands: Jason and Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Computer is still borked, so this one was written analogue-style and then typed on my phone :’) not proofread we die like men 
> 
> I have a couple prompts to work from, but if you have any prompts or character pairs you’d like to see, drop me a line in the comments or on twitter (@dovingly). Thanks for reading!

His ears are ringing, and Red Robin’s lips are moving but he can’t make out the words. Red Hood shakes his head like a dog, trying to dislodge the muffled echo of detonating C4. 

He still can’t hear what Red Robin is saying, but the other boy rolls his eyes and very exaggeratedly mouths _ “Take off the helmet.”_

Oh yeah, that. He’s wearing a domino underneath, so he fumbles for the latch and removes the eponymous hood. The air is thick with smoke and the smell of burning hair. He and Red Robin are both coughing and breathing heavily, but the younger boy doesn’t appear to be injured.

“We need to get out before the rest of the place comes down,” Red Robin says, his words echoey and warped like they’re both underwater. Hood sticks a finger in his ear, winces, and nods.

“You’re going to have to call the others, I think my coms got fucked,” he says, too loudly.

Red Robin rolls his eyes again. “So did your cochlea.” But he takes the helmet and gives it a quick once-over. Now Hood can see that his hands are red with fresh blood. When he points it out, Red Robin looks at his palms in surprise.

“Oh,” he says faintly. “Huh.” Absently, he touches the back of his head, and winces as his skin comes away with a fresh coating of crimson. Hood takes his helmet back, puts it on again.

“Give me your coms, and let’s get gone.”


	4. Limping: Jason and Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’re you limping for?” Dick shoved his hands deeper into his pea coat.
> 
> Jason had his hood up against the wind, but Dick could see the click of tension in his shoulders. “‘M not.”
> 
> Chapter 4: Limping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally have a functioning computer again! \o/ 
> 
> Also Dick Grayson is a little shit and I love him.

Jason was limping.

Or was he? Dick made a show of stopping to tie his shoe. It had been a monumental task to convince Jason to come with as Dick mailed some last minute Christmas gifts, but Dick had just assumed that Jason was being stubborn. Maybe he’d been in pain.

There it was - an unavoidable hitch in his gait, a barely-visible overcorrection on his left side as he shifted weight from some mystery injury on his right. Dick straightened again and jogged to catch up.

“What’re you limping for?” He shoved his hands deeper into his pea coat. There was a faint dusting of snow along the streets of Bludhaven, fresh powder turned grey and grimy as car and foot traffic ground it into the pavement.

Jason had his hood up against the wind, but Dick could see the click of tension in his shoulders. “‘M not.”

“Are so.”

“Not.” He poked out of the hood to glare at Dick. Dick used his momentary distraction to (gently) shoulder-check his brother.

As expected, Jason staggered, his breath fogging the air with a stream of curses, but Dick was surprised to see him almost drop to a knee. When Jason looked back at him, murder in his eyes, Dick just arched an expressive eyebrow, then grabbed Jason’s shoulder to steady him as he got his footing back.

“What were you saying?”

Jason growled, but he didn’t fight against Dick’s help. Now that he wasn’t trying to hide it, his limp was a lot heavier than Dick had initially guessed. “Just pulled something in my calf, it’ll be fine.”

Dick had an idea. _Oh,_ Dick had an idea. And it must have shown on his face, because Jason immediately shook his head.

“No. You’re not giving me a piggyback ride.”

“Come onnn, Jay, puh_leeeze_?” Dick put on his best pout. “Just until we get back to the car.”

Jason stared at him for a long, long time. A new wave of snowflakes began to frost Dick’s eyelashes.

Then: the moment he had been waiting for.

Jason sighed.

Dick grinned. “Hop on, Little Wing.”


	5. Cold Water pt 1: Jason, Dick, Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick glanced out over the dark waters. There was something metallic gleaming just off shore, and he squinted at it. Was that--?
> 
> “Oh my god, he’s in the harbor,” Babs’ voice blurted, panicked, and Dick’s eyes flipped wide. Yes, that was the glint of a red metal helmet sinking slowly down.
> 
> or
> 
> Jason ends up taking an icy swim during patrol one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of...two? Three? We'll see how far I get. Thanks for reading!

“Got an arms dealer headed to the docks, Hood. Six feet, dark hair, leather jacket, carrying a briefcase.”

“You know, if you left the briefcase out you’d be describing _me_.”

Dick bit back a smile. “Roger, will arrest on sight.”

On Dick’s left, Tim snorted. “Let us know if you need backup, otherwise we’re heading out.” Tim ran his fingers over his grapple, checking for imperfections. “It’s pretty quiet over here.”

“You did not just say that.” Dick shot him an affronted look. “You’re inviting an alien invasion with those words.”

“Copy that, keeping an eye out for little green men,” Jason’s voice was muffled, like he was covering his comms with a hand. Dick frowned and adjusted his own earpiece.

“Come again, Hood? You’re breaking up.”

There was a cough and a shuffling sound, then Jason’s voice came across more clearly. “You only get my jokes once, Big Bird.” A pause, then his tone sharpened. “Got your arms dealer in sight, I’m in pursuit.”

Crime Alley did, in fact, remain quiet, and within the half hour Dick and Tim were making their way back across the rooftops. As Tim bounded ahead, Dick paused to check in on Jason once more.

“How’s it going, Hood?”

No response. After a moment, Dick flagged Tim down and tried again.

“Red Hood, what’s your status?”

Still nothing. Dick and Tim exchanged a quick glance.

“We’ve got to go back.”

Tim frowned. “Fine, but if he just has his comms off he’s buying us dinner.”

They were still several blocks away from Jason’s last known location when the crack of gunfire ricocheted down the narrow streets. Dick knew, of course, that Jason was not the only person in Gotham with guns. But he still leapt from the roof like a peregrine falcon after a pigeon, the cold air whipping tears from his eyes as he plummeted. At the last second he twisted midair and twisted and fired his grapple, and the anchoring _thunk_ directed his momentum into a wide arc over the rooftops. Tim was several blocks behind him at this point, the deep crimson of the new Robin suit blending into the shadows in a way that Dick’s colors never had. It was good to see Tim making Robin his own, but it still tugged on a small, raw part of Dick’s heart that he knew would never heal.

_Focus, Grayson. Your brother might be in trouble._

“Nightwing, I’ve got eyes on the dealer.” Tim’s voice came in on the comms, and Dick flipped out of the pendulum of his swing to perch on top of a streetlight. The plastic was warm beneath his feet. “He’s headed back towards Crime Alley, no briefcase in sight.”

Dick frowned. So he’d made the drop. “Do you see Red Hood?”

“Negative. Do you want me to pursue?”

Dick aimed his grapple at a nearby fire escape. “Go for it, Robin. I’ll see if I can make contact with Hood.”

“Copy that.”

As Tim clicked off the comms, Dick swallowed back the building flutter of worry. There were a dozen reasons why Jason would be offline. Still…

“Hey Oracle, can I get a 20 on Red Hood, pretty please?”

“Sure thing.” The clicking of Babs’ keyboard was soothing, and Dick forced himself to take a breath as he stopped to hang from a wall near the docks. The harbor lapped up against the piers and retaining walls, bringing in trash and dead fish from further out and holding them captive in lazy eddies. It smelled like oil, wet rope, and rotting seafood. Dick bit back a grimace.

Babs gave a soft, discontented noise, and Dick straightened. “What is it?”

“Let me try this again.” More typing. Dick glanced out over the dark waters. There was something metallic gleaming just off shore, and he squinted at it. Was that--?

“Oh my god, he’s in the harbor,” Babs’ voice blurted, panicked, and Dick’s eyes flipped wide. Yes, that was the glint of a red metal helmet sinking slowly down.

“Oracle, alert Robin. I’m going in and I may need his help.”

She may have said something after that, maybe warned him to be careful or told him to wait for Tim to arrive, but Dick had already clicked over to another frequency as he swung down towards the grimy cobblestones.

“Penny One, I’m about to fish Red Hood from the harbor, please stand by with the appropriate supplies.”

“Thank you for the heads up, Nightwing,” came Alfred’s reply. If he too was feeling the anxiety tightening in Dick’s gut, he was doing an admirable job of concealing it. “Do be careful.”

And then Dick was diving, body sketching a graceful arc as he plunged into the icy water. The harbor was dark and murky, but he could see Jason if he squinted against the sediment and trash suspended in the water column. Jason was struggling, his body thrashing against something pulling himself into the depths. Images of sea monsters flashed through Dick’s mind (How would he even fight something like that? He couldn’t use his escrima underwater) but he quickly realized it was a mass of fishing nets tangled around his brother’s feet. 

Dick kicked down closer, touching Jason’s arm to get his attention, then motioned to his boots. Jason nodded and stilled, but there was an alarming lack of air bubbles coming from his helmet. How long had he been underwater? 

The netting was heavy with seaweed and metal weights, and the frigid water was dulling Dick’s dexterity as he began to saw through the tangles. Jason’s boots were shaking underneath his touch, and he felt his brother began to struggle again. Dick tapped him on the shin - _knock it off_ \- but he could hear the soft, panicked noises filtering through Jason’s helmet. He couldn’t have much more air. 

_Come on come on come on!_

There was another splash above, and Dick looked up to see Tim swimming down towards them. Dick severed the last strand of netting and looped his arm under Jason’s armpit. Jason had grown worryingly still, his body limp in the water’s grasp as Tim grabbed his other arm.

Dick knew that the water couldn’t be deeper than twenty feet, but it seemed like an eternity before they broke the surface, gasping for breath. Jason lolled between them, a bobbing deadweight. 

“Does he look injured?” Dick managed through chattering teeth.

“No, but his helmet looks like it got bashed in a bit.”

They dragged Jason towards the nearest pier at a slow and pitiful group doggy-paddle, struggling beneath his larger bulk and sodden clothing. To Dick’s immense relief, Jason was already beginning to stir. By the time Dick and Tim hauled him out of the water and removed his helmet, he was starting to cough up water. Dick carefully rolled him to his side and kept a supportive hand on his shoulder as he began to retch, vomiting up mouthfuls of the Gotham Harbor between full-body shivers.

“Penny One knows we’re coming,” Dick said to Tim, who had removed his cape and draped it across Jason like a shock blanket. Dick too was trembling, but at least his suit was better insulated than Jason’s. “I bet he’ll have hot chocolate waiting.”

A groan from Jason, then a rasping, “He’d better.”


End file.
